


Our shadows taller than our soul

by loveinadoorway



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:05:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2745326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinadoorway/pseuds/loveinadoorway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anon fic request: can u do this (loki /thrandi) :https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=79EpjhxY_5g&list=UUV2FOv9NxzZC7Ie45LCP6vg or if u dont like this one , any other loki video in description</p><p>Apparently, I can - if only up to a point. Battle of the Five Armies, Loki saving the day. So, dear Anon, I hope this works for you. It strangely enough works for me.</p><p>Title and quote from Led Zeppelin, Stairway to Heaven</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our shadows taller than our soul

_There's a feeling I get when I look to the west,_  
_And my spirit is crying for leaving._  
_In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees,_  
_And the voices of those who stand looking._  
  
_Ooh, it makes me wonder,_  
_Ooh, it really makes me wonder._

Loki was stunned.  
He stood on a precipice high above the battlefield and watched the armies gather. The Goblins and Wargs were biding their time. The Dwarves and Men appeared to be pressing on to the front of their spur of the mountain, while the Elves seemed to be shifting their focus on the other spur towards the foul creatures in the valley below. If Loki squinted hard, he could see that damned Elf talking to his son. The bane of his existence. The sole reason he was here.

If asked, The God of Mischief would deny that he possessed something as tedious as loyalty. Or affection. Let alone some warped version of love. But there it was, that spark of annoyance, lust and care that only that goddamned Elf could kindle in him. It had dragged him from Asgard, had made him spin the most awful web of lies around poor Heimdall, had made him travel the Bifrost across time, space and dimension until he ended up on a dusty ledge above the most devastating battle this world had seen in centuries.

He had a part to play in this, whether he liked it or not.  
Loki sighed and hurled himself off the mountain on eagle’s wings. He landed on the elf’s shoulder, claws drawing blood in spite of the armour. Well, given just what that pointy-eared git’s tastes ran to, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, was it, Loki thought with a chuckle. He deliberately clamped the claws down one more time, for good measure. 

Thranduil sat perfectly still atop his steed. He could feel the large eagle’s claws piercing the flesh of his shoulder, but more importantly, he could feel the presence he hadn’t dared hope for. The heady combination of lust and pain his special friend wielded like no other. Maybe this day would end in something different than death and despair – but if it didn’t, he would at least die having seen the one creature that had managed to capture his heart one more time. 

“Laufeyson,” he purred, “have you come to gloat over the fact that my arrogance and greed brought me to this battle, or have you come to help?” 

The eagle hopped off his shoulder and shifted into the familiar form on his way to the ground, clad in green and gold. Resplendent in full battle armour, including that incredible and slightly ridiculous helmet. He looked up at the Elf, expression grim.

“Thranduil, I could have gloated just as well from a safe distance. To help is my intent. But granted, if we both make it out of here with life and limb intact, I think I might be forgiven for a small share of gloating while I fuck you into your mattress until you scream my name and completely forget yours.”

The King of Mirkwood pretended not to have heard the last part of that statement, nor the gasp of his son. Sadly, Legolas appeared to be of very limited imagination in the bedroom and very pedestrian tastes, if the rumours could be believed. Well, the boy was still young, one could but hope his mind would broaden with age.

“What help do you have to offer in this dark hour, Loki?” Thranduil asked quietly. There was no time to do their usual dance, no time for ego, arrogance and the fight for dominance.

“Reinforcements, I thought. I fear the force of the fell beasts is too great for so few warriors. I can get you the swift and the airborne. The winged brethren. They will listen to one of their own. So, with your permission, oh King of Sweet Despair?”

There was mockery in the Asgardian’s voice, but his eyes were warm and serious. Thranduil slowly nodded, then reached down and cupped the tall God’s chin with his slim fingers. He ran his thumb over his former lover’s lips. So soft, yet so firm. He had to taste him, it might just be the last time.

He dismounted and drew Loki into a tight embrace, lips clashing with slightly more teeth than was absolutely comfortable. But then again, none of their trysts had ever been anything other than that. Their tongues danced and despite the leather and the armour, Thranduil could feel Loki’s arousal. He broke the kiss before he reached the point where wild horses wouldn’t be able to pull him away from the God of Mischief anymore.

“Go, my love, go and help save the day,” he whispered.  
Loki nodded and took flight in a flurry of gold and brown.

“THE EAGLES ARE COMING!”   
Bilbo’s cry was taken up by Men, Elves and Dwarves alike and hope rippled through their ranks.

Nobody noticed a single, smaller eagle breaking formation and landing on a tree near the King of Mirkwood, shifting into man form, plowing through Goblins, brutally slaughtering Wargs, always and without fail watching the back of the elegant figure of the King.

And that night, the Mirkwood guards had a hard time pretending not to hear what was going on in the royal tent.


End file.
